


Tell Me, Is Something Eluding You, Sunshine?

by Pthithia



Series: (Practically) Perfect in Every Way [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Anger Management, M/M, Medication, Slight fluff, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 15:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6289726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pthithia/pseuds/Pthithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And what about your insomnia?" Enjolras was quiet. "Your anger management?" No answer. "How's your anxiety?"</p>
<p>Enjolras' eyes fluttered open. He bit his lip and remained silent.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In which Enjolras has therapy and a lot on his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me, Is Something Eluding You, Sunshine?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey I found this while clearing out some old junk files and figured why not, so have some sad Enjolbabe. Tw for past mental health issues.

"The depression's not so bad. I mean, it's still there. I think I need a stronger dosage."

Enjolras was lying on his back on the couch, ankles crossed, hands clasped over his stomach, blonde curls flowing freely over the leather.

The man across the room nodded and shifted in his chair, pushing up his glasses and making a quick note on his clipboard. "So would you say your depressive state has worsened?"

Enjolras squeezed his eyes shut tighter, furrowing his brow. "No. Not worse, but it hasn't gotten better."

The therapist nodded. "And what about your insomnia?" Enjolras was quiet. "Your anger management?" No answer. "How's your anxiety?"

Enjolras' eyes fluttered open. He bit his lip and remained silent.

The doctor sighed and rolled his chair a little closer to the leather couch. "Enjolras, aren't you tired of this game yet? You've been in therapy with me since you were fifteen. I trust that after seven years you know that you need to talk to me so I can help. How are things at home?"

Enjolras shrugged. "Alright. I had another episode the other day."

The man frowned. "With your anger issues?" Enjolras nodded. "Tell me about it."

Enjolras sighed, closing his eyes again. "I was in class - politics and gov - and the professor had us get in pairs. I was placed with…" he but his lip before blurting out, "this rich, sheltered notorious bitch, who, when asked about the problem of homelessness, her solution was for 'people to find a home'. I snapped at her."

The doctor sighed. "That's the third time this month something like that has happened. What does Dr. Mabeuf say?" he asked, referring to Enjolras' psycopharmacologist who worked in tandem with his therapist, Dr. Lamarque, in curing Enjolras' many mental issues.

"He suggested a stronger medication than the one I'm on now, or maybe hypnosis."

"And you realize this is entirely in your head?"

"I know I fucked up!" Enjolras snapped, forgetting the self-control methods for a moment. "I've undone weeks of therapy and medication because I couldn't shut my damn trap!"

"Enjolras," Dr. Lamarque chided. "Calm down. Remember the breathing excersize? In-" they both sucked in a deep breath, "-and out."

Dr. Lamarque flipped through his notes attached to the clipboard, running a hand through his hair. "So you mentioned your depression returning earlier."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Care to elaborate?"

Enjolras closed his eyes. "A lot like when I first came in for therapy, before the medication. I don't… feel anything. It's hard for me to understand the emotions of others. I don't necessarily want to KILL myself… I just want to somehow end up dead."

The doctor looked alarmed. "The suicidal thoughts aren't coming back, are they?"

"No, no, not like that. I don't want to commit suicide."

"Good, very good. Have you spoken to anyone about this?"

Enjolras snorted. "You know as well as I do that none of my friends or family know about the therapy and medication."

"You've mentioned this in the past, but you never say why. Do you think you could tell me?" He clicked open his pen.

Enjolras slumped into the couch. "The ABC - I love it with all my heart and soul - but sometimes it can be too much. I feel like all my friends depend on me to be a rock, when I can't even be a rock for myself. It's just…" he struggled to find the right words. "Do you know how many hours I've spent preparing meetings to have them joked about and interrupted? How long I've learned medical terminology to help my flatmate study? How many times I've babysat my friend's son and put off homework? How many lectures I've missed because I had to drive a friend to the doctor when his leg was acting up, or the other when he broke his ankle?"

The doctor nodded, scribbling away. "So you're saying…?"

"The thing is…" Enjolras sighed, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. "They all mock me so bad. They say I don't know how to have fun and I'm boring and inhuman and perfect and uncaring and emotionless. But they expect me to be there to fix all their problems and run their meetings and be a shoulder to cry on. They don't know I've been in anger management therapy since I was fifteen. They don't know I have insomnia and manage to be a double-major 4.0 grade average college student while running a social justice club and having a job. They don't know I've given myself anxiety about all the stuff they belittle. They don't know I'm severely depressed and used to be suicidal. They don't know my history of Xanax and Valium and all the other shit I take to make myself normal.

"And I love them, of course, they're my friends and the only people I consider family, you know how it is with my real family… I just don't know how to deal with it," he finished, rubbing his eyes and turning his head to see Lamarque frowning at his paper.

"Thank you for sharing this with me. I know it's been a difficult topic for you in the past, but hopefully we can work through this together." He set aside his clipboard and moved his chair to be diagonal from the leather couch Enjolras was reclined on. "Do you mind if we start with your depression?"

Enjolras shrugged. "Go ahead."

"I'd like to try a new approach today. Now, just relax into whatever position you find comfortable." Enjolras recrossed his ankles and folded his hands on his stomach once more. "Good?"

Enjolras nodded. "Are you going to hypnotize me?"

Dr. Lamarque smiled. "Not today. If what we're about to try fails, however, that may be an option later. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Good. Don't look at me, just relax and think. Focus on my voice." Enjolras nodded. "Now, why don't you tell me about the last time you were truly happy?"

Enjolras paused, smiling. "Happy?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"Me?" he asked doubtfully.

"You."

Enjolras sighed, thinking hard. "Well…" he paused before launching into a story. "One month ago. I was at an ABC meeting giving my speech. There's this… guy who goes to the meetings. He sits in the back and doesn't do anything but drink and pick arguments with me. He's pretty good friends with everyone else, but I'm sure he hates me." He paused for a second.

"Go on."

"He likes to play devil's advocate against whatever I'm saying; it doesn't matter what: from tax raises on the working class to toothpaste brands. I think he just likes to argue with me; he doesn't do it to anyone else.

"Anyway, we were having a debate during a meeting, something about Thomas Hobbes, and it eventually morphed into a discussion on how all people need something to fight for, be it loved ones or something else. He didn't believe me when I told him I fight for the people, so I asked him what he fought for. He said…" Enjolras blushed a little, fighting to keep away a smile. "He said he believed in me."

He didn't look at Dr. Lamarque, but he could hear the smile in his voice as he said, "I see."

"And I don't know why, but it just made me very, very happy. I mean, he's a great person. An amazing artist, funny, kind, big hearted, mentally stable. But he's a horrible cynic who doesn't hold faith in anything. I was glad he believed in something after all, even if it was just me."

"That's very good, Enjolras," Lamarque said, crossing the room quickly to retrieve his notes. "What is this man's name?"

Enjolras looked startled by the question. "Hugo. But everybody calls him by his last name, Grantaire, like the rest of us. Well," he added hastily, "their nickname for him is R. I don't think he would like it if I called him that."

Dr. Lamarque smiled to himself as he said, "Has it occurred to you, Enjolras, that you may have feelings for this man? Other than the desire to be his friend?"

Enjolras flushed darker, chancing a glance at the doctor. "I- no, it's not- he wouldn't- no. No." He shook his head. "I don't think so. I mean, even if I did have feelings for him, which I don't, he would never return them. Taire- I mean, Grantaire hates me."

"Mmm," the doctor said noncommittally, clicking his pen and scribbling the name 'Hugo Grantaire' in his notes. "Well then. Moving on to the next topic."

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Ideas? I'd love to hear 'em. Also, please tell me if there's anything I should tag. It makes me anxious to post stuff like this without adequate warnings. Thanks for reading!


End file.
